


Where We Can Go As We Are

by keita52



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Feelings, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-15 20:18:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16070549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keita52/pseuds/keita52
Summary: It takes returning to Orzammar for Vila Brosca to realize where her home is.





	Where We Can Go As We Are

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ninaunn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninaunn/gifts).



> _The ache for home lives in all of us. The safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned._
> 
> — Maya Angelou, All God's Children Need Traveling Shoes

Vila Brosca barely managed to avoid slamming the door behind her, dumping her travel-worn bags on the floor and immediately heading for a corner. Ancestors, she hadn’t felt this raw and angry since first leaving Orzammar.

Of course, that was part of why she felt so rotten now. She was back in Orzammar. As an honored guest, despite the fact that she’d left with a death sentence on her head. This obstacle, like so many others she had encountered over the past months, had been solved by virtue of her being a Warden.

She wanted to scream. She’d wanted to scream about five minutes into the sodding banquet Bhelen had thrown in their honor. Everyone,  _ everyone _ , had made some sort of comment about how she must feel being back. Brosca had just smiled, nodded, and visualized what their heads would look like off of their bodies while she responded in a calm voice.

Because, of course, none of them had the faintest idea what she felt. None of them had endured anywhere near the poverty and hardship she had, as a casteless duster. None of them would understand how  _ liberating _ it was to be away from that. 

A knock sounded at her door. “Go away,” she said, not caring how petulant she sounded.

“Are you sure?” Her spirits lifted a little when she heard Zevran’s voice. “I brought wine.”

Brosca scrambled to her feet and kicked her bags out of the way before opening the door. Zevran grinned, holding up a bottle and stepping inside. “Ah, the magic word.  _ Wine. _ Opens all kinds of doors, no?” He held it out to her. She took it gladly, drinking a few swallows before placing it on a table. 

“I thought gold opened all kinds of doors,” she said, her eyes trailing him as he flopped down on her bed.

“That, too,” Zevran admitted. “How are you feeling?”

He’d been doing that more recently. Asking her how she was, talking to her before they took off their clothes. She still remembered the first time he had propositioned her, a short time after she spared his life and let him join her group. Her insides had been a knot of tangled emotions, attraction and worry and fear and temptation.  _ Come back when you’re sure that you want  _ me  _ and not the person you are obligated to,  _ she’d told him, knowing that the answer might be never. 

But he had, and what had started as a purely physical relationship was evolving. Brosca wasn’t sure that she was comfortable with that evolution. She’d decided to deal with it, because she was afraid that the alternative was losing him.

“Muddled,” she admitted, plopping on the bed next to him. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and she leaned into him.

“It is never easy to come back home,” Zevran said. “Particularly when one has changed so much since leaving.”

“You got that right.” She reflected on how odd everything had been, from Rica greeting her as a noble concubine, to the Prince -- the  _ Prince! _ \-- calling her his little sister. After everything that had happened with Rica, with their mother, with Rica’s son -- it had been the easiest thing in the world to pledge her support to Bhelen.

And if she wanted to make sure that Bhelen took the throne, guaranteeing her family’s safety, she had to deal with Jarvia. She had to face her old demons.

They sat together in silence for a time. The sound of his breathing and the warmth of his body eased some of the tension she had been carrying. “Stay the night?” she asked. 

Zevran kissed the top of her head, then ducked his head to kiss her on her lips. “You have only to ask.”

* * *

 

Brosca stood in the shambles of her old home and stared at the one Carta guard left alive. The bottom dropped out from Brosca’s stomach. “Leske sent you?”

“He told us he’d get you here. All we had to do was take you out,” Jarvia’s lackey told her, holding one hand against his head. Brosca decided he was a dead man when he’d told her everything he knew.

“You don’t disobey Leske, you know? He’s Jarvia’s top man!”

_ Not with the Carta anymore, eh, Leske? _ Fury rose in Brosca, so strong it threatened to choke her. She put a blood-stained hand on her greatsword. “Where?”

“Uh… at the base, I guess. WIth Jarvia. That’s where he usually is.”

“Is there really a tunnel out back?”

“Oh, yeah.” He was nodding, looking almost hopeful. Brosca drew her sword and ran him through in one swift motion. He collapsed to the ground, blood gurgling from his mouth. Her fury was like ice in her veins. 

“Vila?” Zevran stepped forward, arm raised as if to touch her.

“Don’t,” she said, and was instantly ashamed at the hurt she saw in his face. She put that aside. Leske. She had to deal with Leske. He had  _ lied _ to her. Set her up to be killed. After everything they had gone through together. After all the times they had saved each others’ sodding asses. Shouldn’t that have meant something to him?

“We go now.” Brosca shoved her roiling emotions down, summoning what calm she could manage. She would not die in Dust Town. Not after getting away from it, after building a new life on the surface. “They won’t be expecting us.”

She stalked towards the back of her house, her companions moving forward only a second later. Zevran. Morrigan. Leliana. Her friends. Despite all odds, her trusted friends. 

“Allow me,” Zevran said, brushing past her, examining the tunnel. “I would not put it past this Jarvia to have trapped the passageway.”

Brosca was silent, letting him work. Jarvia. That bitch. She’d always known Jarvia was dangerous, but she’d also thought Beraht the more dangerous of the pair. To be fair, it was Beraht that had controlled her life, hers and Rica’s; Beraht who had been about to hand her sister over to the ‘tender mercies’ of his men before she killed him. 

Beraht. Jarvia. Leske.  _ Leske. _ Sod it all, this wasn’t how things were supposed to go!

They kept going until they reached a solid door, soft voices murmuring on the other side of it. “Leske is mine,” she said quietly. “Jarvia needs to die. After that, I don’t really care what happens to the others.”

“At your command, Warden,” Morrigan said, even more formal than she usually was. Leliana just nodded, and Zevran closed his hand over hers. She wanted to pull away. This wasn’t the time to show tenderness. But, oddly, it did help.

Brosca kicked open the door with her boot and marched in. Sure enough, Leske was at Jarvia’s side. “Well, well, if it isn’t our little runaway, come back to finish the job,” Jarvia drawled.

Ignoring her, Brosca stared Leske in the eyes. “Why?”

Leske shrugged. “What was I supposed to do? You were gone, and Jarvia’s pulling the strings. Not all of us got your opportunities.”

“You could have left,” Brosca retorted. “Gone to the surface. Made a new life.”

“No, I couldn’t have,” Leske countered. He looked almost regretful. She almost believed it. “This is my home. It’s the only thing I know.”

Brosca took a deep breath. “Walk away and you’ll live, Leske. For the friendship we once had, I’m offering you this chance. Abandon this bitch. She’d do the same to you.”

“Do it, and I won’t forgive you,” Jarvia said, her tone full of venom. “You really think she can take us? That  _ they _ can take us? Fight beside me. Finish what you started and prove that you belong to me.”

Leske was torn. The conflict was written all over his face as he looked from Jarvia, to Brosca and her companions, and then back to Jarvia. “Sorry, salroka, but like I said, I have to live here.”

“ _ Sod you _ ,” Brosca shouted, refusing to let the tears fall. She charged him, heedless of all the other Carta members that seemed to appear from the walls to support Jarvia. Leske brought his blade up in time to block Brosca’s frantic attack, taking a step back and falling into a fighting stance.

They had sparred together countless times, so at first they defaulted into their old series of blocks and counters -- but Brosca had learned a lot of new techniques, and once she shook off her habitual instincts, she started pushing more aggressively, and soon had Leske on the defense. Seeing this, some of Jarvia’s minions broke off and came to his defense. Brosca growled, stretching both of her arms out and giving a fierce war cry before sweeping their legs out from under them with her greatsword. A moment later, Zevran was by her side, flourishing his dual swords and giving Leske his usual wicked grin. “You should have taken her offer,” he said, before sliding out of sight. A moment later, his blade appeared, piercing the unfortunate Carta thug’s stomach from behind. Zevran dispatched the two others flanking Leske in similar swift strokes before rejoining Brosca. “Leliana has disarmed a number of traps around the edges of the room,” he said. “I am yours to command.”

Brosca couldn’t help but smile fondly at him, despite the fact that they were in a fight for their lives, and one of their enemies was the man she had trusted for most of her adult life. 

“Who the hell are you?” Leske asked, stepping forward to engage Zevran. “Why are you talking to her like that?”

“I do not believe you get to question Vila’s company anymore. I rather think you forfeited that right when you betrayed her.” Zevran ducked Leske’s blow, stepping aside at the last minute so that Leske nearly fell flat on his face. 

“You sleeping with him, salroka?” Leske picked himself up. “A pretty boy elf? Thought you had more taste than that.”

Brosca ground her teeth. Leske was just trying to get under her skin. He knew how to do that better than anyone else in the room. She brought up her blade again and took a step forward.

“Let me.” Zevran’s voice was soft, but insistent, and it stopped her in her tracks. “I know you said to leave him for you, but this is not a decision you should have to live with. As you helped me with Taliesen, please allow me to help you.” Brosca looked over, and he gave her a soft smile. “Trust me.”

“I do,” Brosca replied, struggling to keep more tender feelings from overwhelming her rage. When had Zevran begun to have that effect on her? “Thank you.”

“Go. Slay the self-proclaimed Queen.” Zevran turned his focus back to Leske, who had seemingly just been watching the interplay between them. Bad move. He should have tried to take advantage of their distraction.

Brosca jogged over to Morrigan’s side, checking that the Witch of the Wilds was fine (she was, of course) before going to Leliana. She had a sword out and was fighting off Jarvia with some effort, Jarvia’s face twisted into a sneer.

“Pick on someone your own size,” Brosca shouted, and Jarvia looked over at her, the sneer twisting into a wicked smile. 

“Well, well, well. Beraht’s hound thinks she can rule the pack. Show me what you’ve got, little girl.”

It was easy to ignore Jarvia’s taunts, easy to get her head back in the game and fall into the familiar rhythm of battle. Brosca remembered being intimidated by Jarvia, back when she’d just been Beraht’s girlfriend. Now, one arrogant bitch barely registered on the scale of “things that bother Warden Brosca”.

Jarvia was fast, darting and whirling, trying to strike too fast for Brosca to counter. Brosca let her wear herself out for a while, keeping her own movements conservative without letting Jarvia find any of her weak spots. Jarvia needed a flashy kill to prove how strong of a fighter she was, while Brosca just wanted her dead.

Brosca saw it in Jarvia’s eyes a moment before she made her attack -- frustration at not being able to make any headway overriding the smart tactics she’d been employing up to that point. Jarvia tried for a savage, hard strike and left herself open for Brosca’s counter-blow. The sharp blade tore through Jarvia’s worn leathers like they weren’t there, blood flowing freely from the wound in her side. 

Jarvia staggered backwards, shock written on her face. Brosca pushed her advantage, cutting Jarvia’s other side open and slashing at Jarvia’s legs on the backswing. She allowed herself to feel a small measure of triumph at the sight of Jarvia on the floor, bleeding and losing more of her strength with every breath.

“Vila--” Jarvia started to say, and whether it was a plea or a curse, Brosca wasn’t about to let her finish it. Her blade chopped into Jarvia’s neck, black arterial blood coating it. Jarvia’s body fell to the ground.

Brosca looked around, relieved to see that her companions had everything under control. All of the Carta thugs were either dead or dying, including …

Leske lay motionless at Zevran’s feet. Brosca swallowed back a sudden rise of bile and walked over, hands knotted into fists to prevent them from shaking. 

Zevran looked up at her, his face soft. He extended a hand out and she took it. The feel of his fingers against her hand was calming. The tears she had denied earlier came racing back, spilling down her face as she stared at Leske’s body. 

“Sod it all, Leske.” Her voice broke with her grief. “This isn’t how it was supposed to be.”

“Things rarely go how they were supposed to.” Zevran squeezed her hand. “Come. We should go tell your new brother what we have accomplished.”

Brosca nodded and let herself be led away. 

* * *

Bhelen threw another banquet to celebrate Jarvia’s death and the dismantling of the Carta. Brosca was too cynical to believe that the underworld would stay pacified for long. There would be a new Beraht or Jarvia, probably sooner rather than later. Let the nobles revel in their complacent ignorance. Orzammar wasn’t her home anymore.

They were all too deep into their cups to notice when she left. Rica had invited her to stop by and see her nephew Endrin, which she would most likely do in the morning. For now, though, she wanted to be alone. 

Brosca paused halfway to her chambers. No. She didn’t actually want to be alone. She wanted the company of one very specific person. 

She turned left when the tunnel branched, heading towards the smaller rooms that had been given to her companions. Zevran’s was at the end of the hall. Brosca didn’t hesitate before knocking. 

The sight of a shirtless Zevran opening the door did a remarkable job of banishing some of her lingering unease. His puzzled expression quickly gave way to a warm, welcoming smile. “Vila. Please, come in.”

“Zevran. I, uh.” She swallowed. “I need to tell you something.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Must it be while standing?”

“No.” She let him lead them over to his bed, smaller and narrower than her own. He took her hands in his and looked at her expectantly. 

“I don’t want things to keep going as they are.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Brosca cringed, knowing how they might sound. “What I meant was … when we started, Zevran, I told you that I wanted to make sure that you wanted to share my bed. Mine, and not … the mythical figure of the Warden, or the person who spared your life and took you into her service. And that’s still true. I still want you in my bed. I just want … more.” She couldn’t read the expression on his face, so she just kept going. “You mean more to me than just someone to share my bed. You care about me, try to look out for me. Of everyone here, I would … regret it the most, if you were to leave.” Sod it, that was too soft. “Iloveyou.” Was that the only way she could say it? Brosca ground her teeth and tried again. “Zevran, I … I love you.”

Zevran pulled one of his hands away and brushed her cheek gently. “Everything I have been taught says that what I feel is wrong,” he told her, meeting her eyes. “Yet I cannot help it. I think that is what love is, yes?”

Brosca smiled, reaching up and laying her palm against his cheek. “Yeah. I think so.”

He bent his head to kiss her, and things had never felt more right for her than in that moment.


End file.
